


Along the Way

by Wizardheart83 (Plant_Murderer)



Series: Love That Grows [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Harry, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Gen, POC Harry Potter, [they] learn to live with the unimaginable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plant_Murderer/pseuds/Wizardheart83
Summary: Harry and his grandparents, Rose and Lyle Evans, have accepted an invitation to spend Christmas at Privet Drive with Aunt Pet and Dudley, if that means they have to also spend it with Vernon and his sister Marge, well the road towards (love? reconcilliation? acceptance in grief?) their shared future was always going to have a few bumps...(second fic in an AU where Harry is being raised by his muggle grandparents)





	1. Chapter 1

Rose Evans looked down at the sleeping two year old in the car-seat and felt a little sad. She'd always loved a good road-trip and she could remember fondly the weekend trips that she and Lyle had taken with the girls. Naturally, when Petunia had invited them down to Surrey for a few days around Christmas, she'd immediately started to plan a leisurely drive. Lyle had been forced to put a stop to that; reminding her that they had Harry now, and that flying would be a great deal less likely to result in certain specific kinds of trouble.  

Harry, while being a generally calm and sweet little boy, was still two years old. It was an age that came a penchant for fuss, struggle, and easy boredom. Harry had been known to make his own entertainment, occasionally through less than conventional means. He'd never done any harm, and likely wouldn't be capable of it for some time. All the same, the last thing they needed was someone from the magical government deciding that a car making train noises, or barking like a dog, was too conspicuous, and 'shouldn't Harry be with people who can fix these things before they get out of hand'. An hour long flight and a shorter ride in a rental car was easily a safer option.  

Rose accepted that, but wondered if she'd still be getting around well enough to love a road trip when Harry was old enough to love one too. That wasn't her only concern either. She was sitting in the back seat with Harry, while Lyle drove, and a glance towards the front window revealed a pristine little village, and a sign bidding them a polite welcome to Little Whinging.  

"It's a shame that we had to fly," Rose said to Lyle. "I could have brought Pet a lemon tart, or a sponge or something."  

"It'll be fine, Love," Lyle soothed. "If you must, I'm sure there's a grocery somewhere. I could find it and you could bake for Pet when we get there. Like as not, she'll have made something already. Dudley likes his sweets."  

Harry, who'd been dozing lightly, perked up to ask, "Duddy? At Duddy's house?"  

"Not yet, Dear," Rose answered. She  brushed a gentle hand over his face and leaned down, pressing a kiss between his eyes just to watch them cross. "We're almost there."  

 Harry tried to crane up and see out of the window, over the sides of the car-seat. He stretched from the top of his dark, curly head to his sneaker encased toes, pushing even his small green eyes toward the window, but it was for naught. He got only the briefest glance  before giving up and tightening his hold on Padfoot, pressing his face into the toy as he yawned a little.  

"Nice, Grandmum?" Harry asked after a moment. "Duddy house nice?"  

"I suppose that we'll see, Harry." Rose said.  "I've never been. Your aunt was very cross with me when she moved in." 

"Cross?" Harry asked. Rose nodded but turned back to Lyle, remembering something.  

"I've told you that Vernon is having his sister over as well? This will be a proper family holiday."  

Lyle hmmed a response. He'd never been fond of Vernon and Vernon's continued absence from the Petunia and Dudley's monthly visits  had done nothing to improve Lyle's opinion. He didn't imagine Vernon's sister would be much better. 

"Cross?" Harry asked again.  

"Never with you, Dear," Lyle answered fondly, "and not particularly so with Vernon. He's a perfectly serviceable chap for Petunia. He's done well for the three of them."  

Rose thought that no one in all the world could damn with faint praise with the same charming efficiency that Lyle has displayed. She counted down from five in her mind before he ruined it, adding, "He's just a bit boring and self-important is all."  

"You haven't seen him in years," Rose pointed out. "He'd just started at that new job of his last time. Perhaps he's settled down now that he's more sure in his comforts. People change."  

* * *

 

 "Not your parents, they don't," Vernon grumbled under his breath.  

Petunia pretended not to hear him. Not for the first time, she wished she'd just left Vernon at home and brought Dudley to her parents' for Christmas. Failing that, she could have seen them the weekend after, but it was such a long drive, through snow. Besides, it was time that her parents got to come and see her home. Vernon could deal with them coming in the same way he put up with her monthly trips to see them.  

"It just doesn't make sense," Vernon said for the hundred and thirty-first time.  

Petunia knew why he couldn't understand. Her relationship with her parents, and with Lily, had been so much easier to talk about when it was simpler. Back when they'd been engaged, and she'd been angry and betrayed, it had been the easiest thing in the world to lay her pain out for Vernon, who wouldn't hold with any of the unnatural nonsense that had torn her family apart.  Now that things were different, well... things were different. Petunia hadn't even told him that she was leaving to see them again until she was already a third of the way there, just two months after she'd left Harry with them. 

That first visit had just been so impulsive. One moment she was doing the laundry, in the next a handful of Dudley's shirts and another of pants and trousers were being shoved into his diaper bag. A breath later and she'd packed her own things and called for a cab. She told herself that it had been the laundry; the practical realization that infants went through a lot of it. She'd left her mother and father with just Harry, the basket she'd found him in, and the blanket that had covered him. (In truth, it was likely the green of Dudley's jumper. She hadn't really looked, but didn't Harry have eyes that shade, like... like his mother? Like Rose? Why hadn't she looked? What else had she missed? Had he had wounds besides the cut on his face?)  

She'd called Vernon from a payphone at the train station, explaining where they were and when they'd be home, but then hanging up because it was hard to hear past the sudden memory of a little red haired girl calling, "You have to see! Petunia?!" 

She'd known it was ridiculous. She hadn't felt any more able to look at that small face than she'd been when she'd covered it with the blanket she'd found him in and broken speed limits across the country to give him away. She had nothing more to offer him or them than she'd had that morning. She'd been pleased not to have to see the boy or her parents, or think about her sister in the two months since, but she couldn't just stay away.  

Her parents had cared for her, and welcomed her home even when she all she brought were fresh loss and new burdens. They'd taken Harry in when she'd shown them that she couldn't stand the thought of raising him, and told her that she was still loved, even if they weren't exactly pleased with her. It would be alright. She could come and see them all anytime. Faced with such a welcome, with such grace and love, she'd been cold and selfish. She owed them more than that. She hadn't even really looked at the boy, and maybe she owed her sister more than that too.  That was all the clearer when she'd arrived, and they'd been good on their word; patient and kind to her and elated to meet Dudley for the first time.  

Petunia wanted desperately to welcome them in return. 

Of course all of that would seem like madness to Vernon, who'd had a perfectly traditional upbringing and relationship with  his own parents from the moment of his birth to their timely and appropriate retirement to the coast, but there it was.  

Petunia opened her mouth to explain her thoughts, then said only, "I know, Dear."  

She walked over to the playpen and handed Dudley the stuffed bear he'd dropped (thrown), just out of reach.  

"You'll play nice with Harry, Sweetums?" she asked. 

"Harry nice!" Dudley shouted. "An' Grandmum and Grandda!?"  

Vernon sighed behind her as she replied, "All nice, my good little boy. All excited to see you, and your Aunt Marge is nice too."  

Dudley wriggled his joy at the praise and walked over to the window. Petunia stepped over the gate and followed him. She picked him up, and pressed her face into the top of his head, blonde curls tickling her nose as they watched the road and the afternoon sunlight played on the falling snow.  

* * *

 

The Evans' rental car came to slow stop in the driveway at number 4. Lyle smiled in spite of himself at the sight of Petunia and Dudley standing in front of the window, and he stepped out of the car giving them a wave. He could nearly hear Dudley's happy shouts from where he was, and his smile grew still wider as he walked around to the backseat to help with Harry.  

"Here!" The boy was saying again and again, squirming so much that he nearly got out of the car seat before Rose could undo the buckles. The sound of small feet behind Lyle made him turn just in time to see Dudley, coat only half on and wearing a single shoe rushing towards him, only to see Harry and alter his course, jumping up and down as Rose helped the other boy down. The two started a hug that looked a bit like they were wrestling with padfoot squished between them. Lyle laughed aloud.  

"Let's get inside, you two. Who wants to go with Grandda?" He asked, offering the boys a hand. Dudley took it, but Harry reached for Rose, who'd come around the car from the other side, carrying her purse and some of Harry's things. The four of them walked together to the open front door, where Petunia stood, a reserved smile firmly in place as she waved them in from the cold.  

Once inside, Dudley sought and received greetings from both grandparents while Harry walked over and looked up at Petunia, smiling but hanging back, shy as he said, "'lo Aun' Pet." 

Lyle watched them from the corner of his eye, still attending to Dudley, but prepared to step in if needed. 

Petunia touched his cheek with a gentle hand, and replied, "Hello Harry. Still our good boy?"  

Harry nodded. Then he stepped closer, and hid his face in her skirt as he said, "Miss you." 

Petunia rubbed his back lightly, replying, "You too. It's nice to have you here. Mum, Da, I have tea ready. Say hello to Vernon and get settled a bit; I'll bring it out. He's just through there, in the living room." 

She waved them towards the large front room and walked down the hall into the kitchen. Dudley led the way in, pulling Harry in a rush to show his cousin where he lived.   

When Lyle entered the room, Dudley was pushing an abnormally hesitant Harry towards Vernon, who seemed torn between laughter at his son's enthusiasm and the desire to step back and away from the small, fey creature being dragged toward him.  

"That's your Uncle, Harry," Lyle introduced, walking over and picking Harry up, "he's Dudley's father, like Aunt Pet is Dudley's mum. Say hello?"  

Harry, who'd hidden his face in Padfoot at the first opportunity, peaked out  with one eye, and a small twist of his head. He gave a quick wave, which Vernon, blinking, returned.  

Harry pulled back a little from  the stuffed dog pressed against Lyle's chest, facing his uncle as directly as he could while being held, and said, "'appy Chrissmas. Nice 'ouse."  

Caught entirely off guard, Vernon replied, "Thank you. Happy Christmas."  

Then Harry turned back to Lyle.  

"Pay?" He asked. "Pay wif' Duddy?"  

Lyle let him down so that he could do that, placing him inside the playpen, then helping Dudley over the low gate as well.  

Behind him, Rose gave a warm laugh.  

"He's said it for all of us, Vernon," Rose said, stepping forward and ignoring the way Vernon's eyes narrowed as she touched his arm lightly in greeting. "You and Petunia have a lovely home. Thank you for having us over. How'd you settle on this village?"  

Lyle took the opportunity to sit down and let Rose handle the small talk as he looked around the room.  

The boys were enjoying themselves, with Harry making Padfoot chase after a ball that Dudley rolled. Occasionally they'd stop to look at the tree, glowing with lights not far from the pen.  

The room was as neat as pin, save for the area where the boys played and Lyle smiled to himself. Petunia never could stand an untidy room. It had been one of several reasons that Petunia had refused to share the nursery once Lily had been old enough to move around and put things out of place. She'd needed her own space to grow and settle, had possibly needed more space than Lyle and Rose could give her and still be fair to their youngest daughter. Petunia had found that space. Lyle could see as much in the care she'd taken with the house. That warmed him even as Rose stood and left him with Vernon, claiming a desire to help Petunia with the tea.   

After a few long moments, Vernon turned his eyes to the boys and watched, as Lyle had.  

Dudley was standing at the gate to the pen, turning his head in a comically large motion as he took in the room.  

"Mummy?" Dudley asked his father.  

"She's in the kitchen," Vernon told him. "She'll be back." 

Dudley looked over at Harry, scrunched his face up in confusion and then turned back to his father. "Harry mummy?"  

Vernon hadn't expected the question, and Lyle waited to see what he'd say, but Harry answered for him.  

"No kitchen," Harry said, slowly.  He poked his chest and turned to Lyle, asking "Here? Mummy an' Da go here?" 

Lyle nodded saying, "Always there." 

Dudley looked more confused; his small expression darkening. Then he yelled out "MUMMY!"  

 Petunia strode in and Dudley raised his arms to be picked up. Lyle went to Harry before the younger boy could reach for him, and smiled when Harry handed him the ball that Dudley had been playing with before.  

"Thank you," he told Harry, and leaned down to roll the ball on the floor. Harry launched padfoot at it then laughed as he rushed over to the plush dog.  

Rose walked in with tea and began setting up at the dining room table. Petunia took Dudley with her to get juice cups for the boys.  

When Petunia had left the room, Vernon, eyes narrowed in suspicious asked, "His parents are...?" 

Lyle stifled in eye-roll as he answered, "We teach him that they're in his heart, because it's true, and he's too young to understand what happened to them."  

"Ah yes," Vernon replied stuffily. "Of course. Good."  

"Glad you agree," Rose said, walking over to pick Harry up and sit him in her lap. Lyle joined them at the table, and Vernon followed. During their small meal, Vernon alternated between staring at Harry as one does a bomb, and ignoring his existence.  

Petunia watched the boy as well, but with a kind of distant nostalgia that mingled with attentiveness. Lyle wondered if she saw Lily in Harry. Lyle worried that he himself did, far too often. Still they were sitting down to tea in Petunia's house and his oldest daughter had gotten his wife's favorite biscuits. They'd come a long, often cold way. That there was further yet to go couldn't change that.    

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Big lady an' big puppy," Harry announced from the bottom of the stairs, where he was waiting for his Grandmum. It was mid-morning on the day after he and Rose and Lyle had arrived at number four, and Rose had the sinking feeling that Vernon's sister had arrived. She rushed down the stairs finding Harry wide eyed and curious, and Vernon and Marge looking somewhat appalled.   

"Fat puppy, Grandmum," Harry said, pointing, and Rose had to school her features as even the puppy in questioned seemed to turn his nose up at Harry's assessment. Rose picked him up, cooing and playing at him being heavier than he was as she kissed his forehead.  

"Big boy, you fit right in," she told him and brushed her nose against his, smiling, before looking up at Marge and Vernon.  

"So sorry, you know how children are," Rose said, "You must be Marge. I'm Rose Evans, Petunia's Mum, and this massive little treat is Harry, my youngest grandchild. My husband Lyle, is in the living room."  

"A pleasure to meet you," Marge said. "I rather thought we'd see petunia's family at the wedding. Such a shame that you were _ill_ that day."  

There was more judgment in her tone than could likely be found in some courthouses on a busy day.  

"Oh yes," Rose said, her smile dimming a bit. She'd really hoped to like Marge a bit, such a shame indeed. "though, thankfully, I've heard that your family took good care of my girl on her day. But look at me blathering on while you stand holding bags. I'll just take Harry and let you two carry on as you will." 

Rose was halfway down the hall towards the kitchen before she realized that she needed to see Petunia. Harry squirmed in her arms but she held fast and kissed his forehead.  

"Lend me some courage, could you dear?" She asked softly.  

Harry tilted his head and kissed her nose, a big wet one that made her laugh and reach for a paper towel as she entered the kitchen, where Pet was making breakfast.  

"Morning mum," Petunia said, looking up from the pan that she was stirring. "Harry. He can have an orange slice if he'd like. I keep them ready for when Dudley's impatient."  

Petunia nudged her head at the table, and Rose saw the peeled slices on a plate.  

"Orange?" Rose asked Harry.  

"OwanGE," Harry approximated, and reached toward the slices.  

"What do we say, Love?" Rose chided, picking up a piece and holding it out of reach. 

"Pwease? Pwease Gran'mum?" The little boy asked, his eyes following the treat with so much focus that he didn't seem to notice his grandmother having harder time managing his weight with one arm. Rose gave him the slice then set him down on the floor, where he sat down beside her feet and ate.  

"Do you have photo albums?" Rose asked as she watched her daughter cook.  

"You know I do, Mum. I've shown you dozens of pictures of Dudley," Petunia replied.  

"None before though," Rose countered. "Do you have pictures from your pregnancy, or your wedding?" 

"What brought this on?" Petunia asked. "I think I might have some pictures from when I was pregnant, and I certainly have some from the wedding but why ask now?"  

"Something Marge said - oh dear, I suppose I should have led with that. Marge is here, Vernon was opening the door for her just a moment ago," Rose reported, before sighing, "I should have asked before. Used to it being a sore spot I suppose, and I didn't think you'd have them with you on a weekend trip anyway." 

"I should see Marge," Petunia said, a bit flustered, "but I’ll get those down for you and Da. Marge might like them as well.”  

Rose nodded her thanks as Petunia rushed to greet her sister-in-law. Harry stood and darted after her, veering off into the sitting room, and Rose followed after him. She smiled as she entered the sitting room to find Lyle pouring and fixing her tea.  

“Morning, Love,” she said, sitting beside him. He handed her the cup on a saucer then picked up the book that had been set aside in the cushion next to him. He was reading softy to a contented Harry, when Dudley toddled in and attacked his cousin with a hug before settling down to listen for a bit.  

Vernon appeared in the doorway moments later, breathing as if he’d run, then raising both eyebrows at the boys with their rapt attention.  

“How’d you manage that?” he asked. “Don’t think I’ve seen him that still before breakfast since we got him off the bottle.”  

Lyle smiled, offering “practice” as an aside before returning to the book.  

“Honestly why would you bother with it,” Marge said, catching up with her brother, who moved aside so that she could enter the room first. “Dudley’s an active little tyke, let him be active. He’s far too young to understand any of your story anyway.”  

“We begin as we mean to go on,” Lyle argued gently. “I certainly don’t read them the paper at home because I expect them to know current events. I gather that you’re Marge? I’m Lyle, I don’t believe we’ve met.” 

“Such a shame, that,” Marge replied. "I can see the resemblance a bit, between you and Petunia. I suppose the boys take after their fathers as well, in all sorts of ways."  

A sound like a dropped plate had them both glancing towards the kitchen but both quickly turned attention back to the conversation. 

"They do favor their das," Lyle said, eyes narrowing slightly for a moment before he schooled his features. "Though of course our girls are in them as well. Dudley gets his good, sweet heart from his mum, and Harry shows sparks of Lily's sort of cleverness and her passion. Comes with the eyes, if my wife is any indication." 

"Lyle," Rose said, smiling and swatting lightly at his arm, acknowledging the dig against Marge and the compliment he'd paid in the same brief gesture. "Really though , I should say for the both of us that it's lovely to meet you."  

"I should say the same," Marge said, her nose wrinkling in vague disgust.  

"Mean lady," Harry scolded loudly.  

Vernon was startled, having been silently observing the verbal skirmish taking  place in his living room.  

Rose would have found his jump amusing, but of course Harry was pointing directly at Marge, and Dudley seem inclined to disagree, but had clearly heard the tone in Marge's voice as she spoke and was rather on the fence about it. He looked as adorable confused as Harry did angry.  

"Hush, Love," Rose scolded with little real reprimand in her voice. "That was unkind. What do we say?" 

Harry shook his head, and when his grandfather didn't start reading again, Harry toddled off, with Dudley in slow, fretful pursuit. He perked up when Harry turned and patted his arm,  a learned sympathetic gesture that seemed to ease the older boy.  

"I don't know what's gotten into him  this morning," Rose apologized.  

Lyle quietly applauded Harry's skill in judging character but let Rose keep as much as peace as the situation would allow. He wondered what Petunia had said of them, and of Lily and James, to her new family before they'd begun their reconciliation. It couldn't be good, not if Marge's dig about the boys taking after their fathers was any indication.  

"Marge dear, what was it your mother said at the wedding? 'Women of quality have a way of finding men of worth'?" Petunia asked, walking in from the kitchen. Lyle noted, absently, that there was an air vent just above them on the ceiling. When Petunia continued, Lyle thought he might have a fair notion of where it let out. "If the boys take after their fathers, it's because women of quality chose well. They are good boys, both of them."  

"Graceful of you to forgive your sister's flaws, but we're all family here. You needn't be ashamed. You told me-" Marge began.  

Petunia cut her off, "I was young, Marge, still am. I was very hurt and very angry. I'll say no more about it. Now, as you say, we're all family here, and I have prepared us a breakfast. Please, everyone, come and eat."  

Rose collected Harry, and helped Dudley over the gate that separated his part of the living room from the rest, smiling all the while.  

"That's our flower," she whispered to Harry, kissing his cheek.  

Harry giggled and nodded.

\------ 

After breakfast, Petunia did as she'd said she would, and brought down the albums from her wedding and several others.  

She walked slowly coming down the stairs with them, wishing fiercely that she could erase some of the things that she'd told Marge of her family.  

As if summoned by her regret, her sister-in-law appeared at the door to the living room.  

"Petunia, there you are! Can we talk a moment?" Marge asked.  

Petunia bounced the books in her arms as she shook her head, "I'd like to get these to my mother actually. Then she'll want to look through them together, perhaps later."  

"Surely that can wait a moment," Marge said, moving to guide Petunia into the kitchen. Petunia held her place on the last stair.  

"It's waited too long already, Marge," Petunia said firmly. "She's my mother and she wants to see my wedding dress, and how I looked carrying Dudley." 

Later, Petunia would think back to the look on her own face in that moment, the hurt, and longing, and hope that had probably been there, and she'd understand what happened next. In the moment, it was an utter shock that nearly sent her tripping back onto the stairs.  

"You told me they were wretched!" Marge burst out, frustrated. "That they favored your flighty, indifferent sister and her unemployed, drunk of a fiance, over you and **my** brother! They refused to come to your **we** **dding**! Now I'm meant to be the rude one for holding them accountable? For seeing that boy of theirs for what he is? " 

Petunia looked, horrified, at the open door to the living room, just behind Marge. They'd heard. They'd all heard. How could she have let this happen? Why had she let Marge meet her parents? 

"You don't know what he is," Petunia said, more stating a fact out of shock than properly defending her nephew, though her tone grew stronger as she continued."You haven't the faintest idea. You didn't know my sister either. I told you before, I was young. Lily-."  

Petunia took a deep breath, even now her's sister's name wasn't one that she could speak lightly, but Marge had shaken something loose in her. Her parents needed to hear something else, something true, and more than that, Petunia needed finally be honest with her new family about her first one.  

"I was jealous, and I wasn't wrong about everything, but I was cruel. Lily was more than I was," Petunia said "too much in all the best and worst ways. She was too bright, too fast, too much to live with, and the space she left behind was too big to ever fill. I see that now. I do. I miss my little sister, though she wanted as little to do with me as I did with her when she died. I was young when I said those things about her and her husband. I didn't understand that my parents could be her parents, and still be mine. I thought that her being 'so much' made me 'not enough'. That's not all my fault. They were wrong too, but they are still mine."  

Petunia stood to her full height and loomed over Marge from the stair where she still stood. "They've loved me all this time. They want to know what they missed. I want to show them. You can respect that, and my right to do as I wish in the home I have made, or you can go, and you can take your perfect brother with you. Send him back after the holiday." 

"Now see here," Vernon roared at that, but Marge turned fixed her brother with a look that as good as turned him to stone. Turning to her sister-in-law, Marge glared, "You aren't what I thought you were. Mother and father will hear of this."  

"And I'll still be married to their son," Petunia said. "We'll still be family. It will still be nearly Christmas. Sit down and have cracker with your nephew. I have plans with my mum." 

If her dignified walk into the living room was somewhat spoiled by a shout of "Tha's our F'ower!" from Harry, who'd been standing by the door, and understood only the quiet triumph in his aunt's face, Petunia was fine with that. She picked him up and set him on her mother's lap. They spent a fine morning looking at photos, Petunia settling happily between her parents, whose only reaction to the morning's drama were the secret smiles they passed between them when she seemed to be looking in other directions.    

Eventually, Harry squirmed his way down to the floor to play with his Padfoot, and Dudley climbed up into his grandmother's lap to doze off.  

Rose noted the change and held her eldest grandson close, but her eyes were fixed on the photo album. There'd been roses, lilies, and petunia's all in Petunia's bridal bouquet, just as there had in Lily's, though the proportions were different.  

When Petunia stood and left them to prepare lunch, Rose turned to Lyle, flipping back to a picture to show him.  

Lyle's eyes watered a little, but he smiled and reached over to brush a light hand over Dudley's head.  

"She was always our girl," Lyle said. "Lily would have loved this, the gentle magic of them coming together even when they didn't agree on anything else."  

"You and I both know that there are bigger things yet for them to agree on," Rose said, her eyes strayed to Harry, who toddled around the house that he might once have been raised in as if he'd never left it, as if he belonged there.  

"There's time, Love," Lyle murmured. "He's a good boy, and we've plenty of strength left in us. He's still ours for a while yet."  

"As is she," Rose agreed. "We'll get it right one day, this 'being shared' business."  

"Mine! Big mean lady!" Harry yelled, and his grandparents turned to see Marge examining Padfoot while her dog growled at Harry from behind her legs.  

"And manners," Rose added, "we'll get those right too. Your turn."  

Lyle stood, and approached the two with the grim determination of anyone about to put out a fire. He passed Vernon on the way, who watched unseeingly, still seeming stuck on whether or not he should be angry at excitement that had followed breakfast.  

"Come on son," Lyle said, shaking him out of his daze. "It'll take the both of us to smooth this one out."  

Vernon nodded dumbly, and the two set to work, calming their respective relations.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got more dramatic than I planned, but I kinda like it? the next and last chapter in this one should be a bit lighter, and sweeter. Thank you all so much for the love that this fic and its predecessor have gotten, and thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

 

The minor skirmish over Marge's examination of Harry's beloved toy let to an odd period of peace, or at least one of quieter resentment. Vernon Dursley was not pleased about that, though if he'd had to give it thought before that day he might have assumed that repression would be less trouble than outright war. The next morning, he went downstairs and discovered something worse than either.  

Harry's presents were floating.  

The boy was watching them move about in the air. His eyes were wide with a smug half-smug joy that was, to Vernon's mind, not unrelated to what Dudley typically displayed when he remembered to say please and got the thing that he'd asked for.  

"Put them down," he said, firmly but not unkindly. Harry turned to look at him and pouted, shaking his head, but the presents fell slowly the floor. Harry looked around at them before turning to Vernon.  

"Mine," he whined. "Fat'er Chrissmas!"  

"Not now, go back to your Grandmum, and no more of that …. whatever that was," Vernon said.  

Harry tilted his head, face scrunching adorably.  

"No Wha'?" He gestured to the presents and babbled incoherently to Vernon before stopping and looking at him expectantly.  

"No floating!" Vernon said, "Now go to your-"  

"Why?" Harry asked, interrupting him, "'urt?" 

He suddenly looked very contrite, turning his eyes down and bringing his small hands to his face.  

Vernon, moved despite himself, answered. "Not hurt. You didn't hurt anyone. Just go back upstairs."  

Harry peaked at him and watched him carefully. Vernon smiled reflexively at the sight; here was another of Harry's expressions that was not entirely unlike Dudley's despite Harry's dark skin and bright eyes. Harry smiled back and then stood and darted off towards the stairs.  

"There's a good lad," Vernon said at his back, and Harry turned, waiving before continuing upstairs.  

Vernon sat down heavily in a chair. He thought about everything that Petunia had said before, wondering about her sister and her parents, trying to see them without Petunia's anger standing as a filter between him and them. It was no good. Lily had been angry too when they met, and her parents had been frustrated.  

The notion of a whole unseen world where none of the rules that he knew applied, and where nothing that he valued had place or worth... that was still frightening, but Harry was a nice boy.  A nice boy who made things fly, but a nice boy none the less, and he fretted about hurting people. Had he hurt someone before? Magic was dangerous, he confirmed to himself, and those who dealt in it were foolish at best and often evil. Or impatient two year olds.   

Vernon shook his head and arranged the presents again. He made his way upstairs, pausing briefly to watch Harry trying to pull himself back into bed with his grandparents. He closed their door and then went back to bed. 

* * *

 

Rose woke to the sound of Harry whimpering on the floor and reached a hand down blindly aiming for the top of his head but landing on his face when he tilted his head up. She got a wet kiss on her palm and she turned, opening her eyes and smiling at the little boy who'd apparently snuck out of bed that morning. His eyes were a bit red, and she could see that his face was wet. He had a tight grip on the comforter. 

"Hush now, none of that.Happy Christmas, Love," Rose said, "much happier than our last one I think, though maybe never as happy as some. Your mother would have loved to wake up to you, my precious, good boy."  

"Luff you. 'tuck," Harry said. "Up?"  

"Up," she replied. She took a deep breath wrapped an arm around Harry, hauling him up onto the bed, where he burrowed under the covers and amused himself by poking at the bed's occupants.  Rose turned to kiss Lyle who'd been watching them. "Up." 

"Alright," Lyle laughed, and the Evans got up and dressed for the day, letting Harry stay in his pajamas.  

Rose got breakfast started while Lyle and Harry played with Padfoot.  

Not long after, Dudley made his careful way down the stairs. As he went, he shouted "Mum! Da! Harry! Crissmas! Gammum Rose, Ganda Ly'!"  

Harry met him at the bottom of the stairs and the boys danced and jumped, only to be ushered back into the living room by Petunia when she came down.  

Breakfast was as relaxed an affair as Rose could enforce, serving the boys and keeping them fed and entertained while the adults waited for Marge.  

After about half an hour had passed, Vernon went upstairs to check on Marge and found her packing.  

Running a hand over his face Vernon stepped into the guest room and closed the door.  

"I'm leaving after I see Dudley open his presents," Marge said. "I won't stay where I'm not welcome."  

"Marge, of course you're welcome here," Vernon argued. "Come on down and we'll have a nice holiday."  

"Your wife lied to me," Marge said. "And don't think I didn't catch that remark of hers, about how I didn't know what that boy was. I can see for myself, and so can she. The nerve of that woman raising a Dursley child alongside that-"  

"Marge, he's her nephew. Dudley's fond of him," Vernon grumbled, "and he can't help who his parents were."  

"And neither can she; I know, but to side with them over you and a proper, decent family," Marge continued undeterred. "Mother and Father will hear of this tonight, make no mistake! We thought she was so perfect!"  

"Now see here!" Vernon said. "You will not insult my wife in my home!" 

"Vernon!" Marge said eyes narrowing.  

"Travel safely, Marge," Vernon said stiffly, "No need to wait for breakfast."  

"You would choose them over you own flesh and blood?" Marge asked.  

"Marge," Vernon scolded. "She is my flesh and blood, and we have a son who loves his cousin and grandparents, and you.  I don't understand all of it, but she's my wife, and she and my son bloody well deserve a happy Christmas. Be civil or go, and I'll talk with you this evening when I call our parents."     

He turned and left the room, storming downstairs and into the living room.  

"She's not coming," he barked to the room at large and sat down, wondering if he'd ever share a civil word with his sister again or begin to understand any other part of his life.  

Petunia walked over with a cup of tea and biscuits, her eyes downcast and turned away. Once he'd accepted the small plate and cup, her hands twitched towards her face but she held them at her side.  

"She'll settle down in time, Petunia," he told her, looking towards the boys who were watching him intently. "No harm done. Now better let them get started before they have fits."  

"Open!" Dudley said.  

"Open, Pwease?" Harry amended cautiously.  

"Have at them then, but what should you say?"  

The was a chorus of shrieked thanks, and Harry and Dudley began opening presents. Lyle helped Dudley find his, and when Harry was suspiciously adept at locating his own, he looked up and around until his eyes met Vernon's.  

"Dancing?" He asked.  

Vernon froze for an instant before replying, "Floating, when he snuck out of bed this morning."  

Lyle laughed aloud.  

"Clever boy," He said, leaning over and kissing Harry's forehead, then corrected himself, "Clever boys. You got them back on the ground without so much as a thump."  

"Good Job, that can be tricky," Rose praised, and the matter dropped as the boys drew them back into opening presents and Lyle handed the adults their gifts. There was a brief pause as Marge and her dog left the house, but the next gift found its recipient, and petunia seemed lighter for it. 

While the children played with their new books and games, Rose watched her daughter and son-in-law carefully across the table before deciding that it was time to start the conversation.  

"As it was explained to us," Rose said," and Petunia you may remember some of this, only the immediate family of a young witch or wizard may know about the wizarding world. Those who live with them may also know, in situations where a child is being raised by guardians.  Other relative must be lied to, to protect them and the witch or wizard in question. Vernon, you're a bit of a blind spot. You shouldn't have known but no one official in their world is aware of it. Marge is certainly too far removed from him to know. It might be hard, but it's necessary."  

"When, what...?" Vernon began and stopped short. He didn't know what to ask.  

"They told us when she was eleven, just months before she went to school" Lyle answered. "It was shocking, until I gave it a moment's thought. Then a lot of things made sense. It was frightening after that, and we struggled not to let our fear touch her. We were fairly consistent Anglicans with a witch in the family. We were uncertain of what she would become and what that would mean, I understand your fear Vernon. It's not wholly misplaced, but you should know that she never hurt us with her powers, and neither has he, and no one ever found out without being told."  

"His powers flare with strong emotion," Rose added, "and will until he learns control. Makes things odd at times, most emotions are strong when you're this young. His joy has its gifts, and his tantrums can be uniquely frustrating. Everything in between is just uncanny."  

"Oh," Vernon said, a bit bewildered.  

While he was still thinking through what he'd heard, Petunia spoke.  

"She never hurt us," Petunia said. "But that awful friend of hers did, Severus dropped a tree branch on me once, and scraped my arm."  

"He went dark in the end," Rose said. "not long after graduation. Lily told us. The poor boy had Tobias Snape for a father; never went more than a week without a fresh bruise that I can remember. Severus made his choices, but he made them based on what he knew. Harry will have a different life and make better choices, or we'll have failed him as much as he'll have failed the world."  

"She made different choices and they killed her," Petunia said.  

"They did," Rose replied. "One of the killed her, but Harry is not Lily, besides, he's two, Pet. We had her for twenty-one years, nine months, and a day. There's time." 

Petunia stood and walked over, picking up Dudley and kissing his cheeks. She didn't so much as glance at Harry at first but, when she put Dudley back down, she brushed a hand across his shoulder and offered him a weak smile. Harry beamed in response, then stood and walked to Rose, pressing his face into her knee. Vernon, still sitting close by, gave the boy a stiff pat on the back.  

Rose watched and indulged herself for a moment, remembering Lily and James, and how happy they'd been with a five-month-old Harry, preparing for Christmas. Their letters, though infrequent, had been long and detailed that winter. They'd done their best to give him what they could, but it had been beyond them to give him what they did not have. They passed along their hope and love, but they could not give him a future. That was the work of years, and Rose prayed that she and Lyle would have enough to devote to the task.  

Twenty-one years, nine months, a day, and a few uncounted hours, she'd given to her Lily, and Lily had been beautiful and strong when she was taken from them. Taking a deep breath, Rose leaned down to talk to Harry. Green eyes locked on green eyes, all that was left of her, and the one who'd held and loved her first.  

 _I'll do what I can_ , she promised him in her heart, but she knew that she could only walk down the path with him for so long. They'd have to let each other go someday, but Lyle was right. They still had time, and Rose knew better than most how precious it was.  

"Happy, Harry?" Rose asked.  

"'appy!" Harry replied.  

"So am I," she told him. "How would you like to get bundled up and go outside?" 

Harry nodded and laughed, running over to Dudley and Petunia and babbling about going outside.  

* * *

 

Petunia was watching the children play. For the most part they were just waddling after each other in their head-to-toe snow gear, but she found it a pleasant way to spend the day. Rose had banished her from the kitchen with a promise that Rose would follow the menu that Petunia had set. Petunia was fairly certain that her mother was going to deviate, but it was nice to anticipate a meal that she wasn't going to have to make.  

The day was a lovely one, with the snow falling lightly, and several families out and playing further down the drive. Petunia could watch them over the hedges while keeping an eye on Harry and Dudley and she'd already noticed plenty that would make for interesting gossip with the other housewives when they next met, likely at the shops before New Year's.  

She'd just settled in to enjoy the afternoon when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.  she turned to see Arabella Figg standing at the gate to the back garden. The woman lived nearby, had moved in not long after she'd taken Harry to her parents actually. She was nice enough, and stopped by to chat every now and again.

"Happy Christmas," Petunia said walking over to the gate.  

"It certainly looks that way," Arabella replied, her eyes trained on the children. "Who's that with Dudley?"  

"His cousin," Petunia said. "He's here with my parents, visiting."  

"Only visiting?" Arabella asked.  

"Yes," Petunia confirmed. "He's happy with them and we see him every few weeks. Was there something you needed?"  

"Just saying hello. If you ever need someone to watch Dudley and Harry, you know where I live," Arabella said, then turned and walked off down the street.  

It was hours later before it occurred to Petunia that she hadn't told her Harry's name. She started to wonder about that but was distracted as a shout and a sound of falling objects told her that a curious Harry had managed to get into the cupboard under the stairs.  She found him playing with a broom and was so flustered that she forgot about Arabella's visit altogether.  

* * *

 

The Evans packed up the rental car and were preparing to leave the next day. Vernon carried things out the car while the children made tearful and repetitive goodbyes. This left Petunia, standing on the front step with Lyle and Rose, and none of them quite knew what to say.  

"You've made a lovely home, Pet, I couldn’t be prouder," Rose said. 

"Neither could I," Lyle said, giving Petunia's hand a quick squeeze. "You'll come see us next month?"  

"Yes, Da," Petunia said.  

"Will Vernon be coming with you?" Lyle asked.  

That brought Petunia up short, and she looked over to where Vernon was watching the boys with an odd mix of caution and tentative fondness.  

"Maybe in a few months," Petunia said, " or perhaps you'll come back for Dudley's birthday? We can talk about it next month.  

"Of course," Rose said. "I'll get those pictures from Lily's wedding out for you next time as promised, and some of the others that she sent me. Do you know, they move?"  

Petunia's eyes widened, and she tensed as she said, "I'd forgotten that."  

Vernon walked back towards them, picking up Dudley on the way. Harry toddled after them, pulling Padfoot by an ear, and sat down at his grandfather's feet.  

As Petunia greeted her son with a kiss on his round cheek, Harry tugged at Lyle's pant leg.  

"Mum here?" He asked, pointing to his chest.  

Lyle nodded, "Never far. Say Bye to your aunt pet, and Uncle Vernon."  

"Buh-Bye, Aun' Pet an' U'cull," Harry said, standing up and pressing his face into their legs as he couldn't get his well-insulated arms to bend enough for a hug.  

"See you Soon, Harry," Petunia said. "Grow slowly. No rushing, now."  

"No rush," Harry vowed. "Good boy."  

Petunia felt her heart break just a little. She knew that she could, with a word, have that boy to keep and raise. It'd be whole days before she thought better of it and wished to give him back to her parents, maybe even months if they were lucky. She also knew that she'd done her sister, nephew and parents enough harm by acting hastily out of emotion. Harry would be safe and loved where he was. A month could pass quite quickly. 

"Safe travels," she said to the three of them, and stepped back to let Dudley say goodbye to his grandparents.  

As she watched them get into the car and make their way down the road, she found herself smiling. Dudley was fussing about lunch and Vernon about lack of boot space in rental cars. Her street was calm and quiet. She had a sister-in-law to pacify, and guest rooms to put to rights, but they'd made it through the holiday.  

Not far off, Rose drove the rental back towards the airport.  Lyle read the paper to his grandson and wife as they went.  

Harry drifted to sleep, comforted by the motion of the car and his grandfather's voice, completely unaware that miles away Arabella Figg was talking to Albus Dumbledore, giving the first of several updates that would begin to change his plans and the course of Harry's life forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we have it, the second story in this series is done. I hope that you enjoyed it. There'll be a time jump between this and the next story, amd it may take me a while to get it written and posted, but trust that i'm working on it. Thank you for all the Kudos and appreciation, the support helped alot.


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